It Started at the Bar
by RedCatEye
Summary: Dean Ambrose never expected to be caught in Mox's spider web. (Originally posted on archiveofourown from my account.) Part 1 of a series: You're not the person I thought you were. Jon Moxley/Dean Ambrose AU.


It was a Thursday night when Paige invited them for a night out on the town. Right after Smackdown, she'd called up a bunch of them and promised that the first round of drinks were on her. So naturally, they agreed.

Dean, Seth and Roman met up with Paige and the rest of Team PCB at the parking lot. All of them were already dressed in street clothes so once the three men said their hellos, the six of them walked all the way to the bar, which was just a few blocks from the arena.

"I don't understand why we have to carry our bags with us," Becky complained, lifting her bag over her head then plopped the item back down to prove the point of how heavy it was. "People are gonna steal our shit."

Paige rolled her eyes. "Yeah, yeah. We got that, Becky. Just trust me: I can hide them and we won't have to worry about them the entire time we're there."

"And besides," Charlotte chimed in. "What's there to steal? What d'you have in there: Ring gear, wrist tape, couple clothes, a few underwear. Those things are a like, what, 150 bucks in total. Besides my title belt, I don't think there's anything valuable to make a buck on."

Dean pressed his lips in a thin line to prevent himself from laughing too hard. "Fucker must be pretty damn desperate if he's gonna steal your panties, Becks."

Laughs filled the air as they continued their little walk. By the time they got to the bar, they were a bit sweatier than they were when they left the arena. After a few straightening out and touching up, they were out on the dance floor, dancing along to the synthesized music the DJ mixed.

Well, all except Dean. He was never much of a dancer. Well, he is but not in public and especially not off-camera. The whole thought of someone grinding up against him (like how one guy was doing with Charlotte) just disgusted him somehow.

"Come on, Dean," Seth said as he tugged on the sleeve of the blonde's hoodie. "You're supposed to have fun at a bar, not sit around and mope like your girl just dumped ya."

"Maybe instead of wasting your time pestering me to dance, you should be worried about that chick over there who's trying to get Roman to bang her."

Dean pointed towards the dance floor, where a plastered woman was trying- and failing - to snake her hands under Roman's shirt. The large Samoan seemed to be talking to her as he gently yanked her hand away from his shirt. Seth got off the chair and ran over to them in record time and immediately pried the woman from Roman, which got him into a heated argument with the lady.

The blonde snickered, his hand reaching up so he could muffle the sounds. The woman was failing miserably in her attempts to formulate a proper sentence while Seth just casually sipped his beer with his eyebrows raised, obviously amused. Roman, on the other hand, was leaning against the wall, laughing hysterically. Paige and Becky were probably in the bathroom doing god knows what and Charlotte was chatting with another girl, possibly complaining about the majority of the guys were totals douchebags.

"Care to tell me what's got you crackin' up there, blondie?" A low, gravelly voice questioned, a tone of amusement hidden under his strikingly throaty voice.

The greeting caused Dean to abruptly turn his head, so fast that he thought he might get whiplash the next morning along with a terrible hangover. The guy who sat next to him on a bar stool looked rough in his ratty black hoodie, sneakers and pants that have definitely seen better days. But the thing that puzzled and intrigued the Lunatic was that he and this guy looked similar.

Sure, the other guy had a blonde shade to his hair than Dean, his cheeks were chubbier, his body was built a little smaller and his eyes were a lighter color of blue rather than Dean's blue-greys but other than those, he and Dean could pass as almost-twins.

"So are ya gonna stare at me like an idiot or are you gonna answer my question?"

Dean blinked and stuttered to start a sentence. "S-Sorry. My friends over there were just fighting a drunk chick and I kinda found it funny."

"It was pretty funny, wasn't it?" The other man said, asking for a beer and added once he got a bottle. "Name's Jon, by the way."

"That a last name or...?"

"Nope. Last name's Moxley but I figured you'd wanna know my first name. Though, people around here just call me Mox since, y'know, Jon is kinda boring. You gonna tell me your name or am I gonna have to guess?"

"It's Dean. Dean Ambrose."

Mox became silent but the silence was short-lived. "Wait, you're that guy from WWE, right?" Dean nodded. "Shit, just saw Smackdown tonight. Shit's awesome, bro."

"Wait, you just watched Smackdown and you couldn't recognize me an hour later?"

Jon answered the question with a nervous "I don't know." before switching the topic to something else. They talked a bit more over a few bottles of beer until Seth and Roman came over to tell him that they needed to get back to the hotel.

"Becky's been dying to get back two hours ago." Seth added, running a hand across his face to somehow keep the sleepiness at bay. Dean nodded in understanding and asked Mox for his number once his best friends went away. Jon took a pen from his pocket and wrote his number on Dean's smooth forearm before winking at the older man.

"Call me." He said in a typical flirty tone as Dean got up, albeit shakily, to follow his friends out of the club.


End file.
